


I’d burn all of Heaven for you

by meektweek



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Implied abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Logan has FEELINGS, M/M, Might not actually be referenced idk, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Sherlock Holmes reading, Slow Burn, They’re not related, To Be Edited, Torture, and they’re for a guy who has to kill him, angel au, logan and Roman learn how to overcome bad stuff, maybe gore, they read a play wow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 23:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19344721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meektweek/pseuds/meektweek
Summary: Angel/Fallen angel Logictivity thing b/c BOY I love them so much lmao





	1. In the beginning,

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not gonna edit this too much sjiskskwowosks it’s literally gonna be so sloppy but :,)

Sometimes, I see the world through my own eyes. I see myself and think, yeah, that’s me. The golden child. And I build myself off of what I pretend to be; the prince on center stage. A Copernican heir to the throne. It works for a bit, to boost my ever fragile self confidence. 

But when I step outside myself and see through others; I’m not as what I make myself to be. I’m a hedonist with no respect for others. Self-important, without an ounce of empathy. Narcissistic, to put it in softer terms. That’s how Virgil views me, he’d said it many times. He was banished quite a bit ago. Sometimes, I do miss him. Not that it matters to me externally. I don’t let things eat away at my armor too much. A weak prince is just as good as dead. At least that’s how they view it in Eden; weak angels are nothing but fodder for the humans. 

They say on Earth that Heaven was the kindest place you could be. For humans, yes; with angels it’s a far different story. We have to do all the dirty work on Earth. Giving hope and taking it away when need be. It’s strange to hear them give us above praise for being perfect beings when we have flaws. We all do. Something without flaws is imperfect; they’d never learn nor would they change. Perfection is the ability to grow, to show what you can become through the suffering. And suffering is what I’ve been doing as of late. 

God is finicky about who he lets stay in Eden. Specifically, people who spread lies about him. Banishment is always what comes first; no first warnings. A popular story we like to tell fledgelings is that of the angels who were cast away; their wings shriveled and turned black without psychí. Psychí is what is angels consume to keep ourselves alive. You can’t get it when you’re forced out of Eden, that’s why “fallen angels” are so grotesque. 

Or so I’ve been lead to believe; I’ve never seen one once before. That said, I will be able to soon. The reason I’m now monologuing in a botanical garden reflecting on my own folly is because I’ve been on Earth for quite a few days and found no trace of the criminal I’m supposed to kill. Apparently he’d been causing some amount of trouble here and I was the only likely candidate they could choose. Botanical gardens were the closest things to Eden I could come to, as the rest of this plane was dirty and violent. I’d already been attacked once by a rather inebriated man who refused to take no for an answer. He attacked me and left purple marks all along the right side of my face and with no way to fix it immediately, I had to wander around Earth looking like this. I reprimanded him of course; knocking him out was quite enough to keep him away from me. 

The garden was split into different areas; wetter plants, ones of the desert variety, older plants from before humans were born. Birds were allowed inside periodically and the soft flap of their wings and songs echoed through the nearly empty building. It was one of the few places I could go and comfortably stretch my wings on Earth. Humans can’t see them but they most definitely can feel something invisible push against them.

Louder flapping; far stronger than that of a bird, came from the largest exhibit of the garden. Perhaps another angel was here, hiding in the catwalk above where people would be. I made no effort to conceal my entrance. 

“A madman indeed? I’m flattered, Watson.” By the voice, he was a man. A man with a very handsome voice. He walked around, waiting for the time that I guessed he would have to be silent lest there was someone else. I quickly looked up the phrase and found it from The Madness of Sherlock Holmes, a short play featuring Sherlock Holmes, obviously.

“A broken jaw. A snapped collarbone! Facial bruising, scratches along her arms and hands! Bruising on the back of her legs, she was kicked, Holmes! Pummeled and left for dead!” Before I could really realize I was reading along, I found myself whispering Watson’s lines. Did Holmes really hurt someone?

“How could you?” I continued, reading from the online script. Moving behind a tree so he couldn’t see me, I raised my voice to a crescendo as instructed. “How can you live with this? Mrs. Hudson - our own Mrs. Hudson, our friend and keeper, her life all but extinguished in a drug-fueled rage! You are an animal, Holmes. A beast!”

He stepped back on the catwalk above, his footsteps echoing through the room. I surprised him. That thought gave me a little smile; usually everyone knows when I enter a room. 

“For God’s sake, Watson, have care!” His voice was weighted with guilt, as would someone who was accused of harming a dearest friend. 

“A care? When have I ever been without a care, Holmes. Surely not when I had to care for your poor, misbegotten clients that you treat with such disdain? Who is it that soothes the way with our own dear housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson, following your daily mistreatment? Who had now just returned from the hospital wherein she lies a battered reverie?” 

“Watson-“ The mystery man above began to plead. 

“She has not moved since they found her this morning, Holmes!” I found myself yelling, near close to tears. “We have done what we can but she hangs to life with grim tenacity. In Heaven’s name, Holmes, such violence...!”

“Look at me, Watson!” He snaps. It’s near ironic as I can’t see him nor can he return the favor. “Look at me. Look beyond my bonds and evidences of my mistreatment. Look in my eyes, my dear, do you not see Sherlock Holmes lingering therein?” 

I took a deep, shaky breath, loud enough for him to hear. “Who are you, Holmes? I have not seen Sherlock Holmes in your face for quite some time now. Your eyes now only seem to waver between steely frenzy and an empty cloudiness that troubles me greatly.” 

Before he could read off his next line, I began to clap. “Good show, my friend!” 

He laughed. It was very cute, soft but deep. Much like his voice, I noticed. “Thank you. I didn’t really expect someone to start reading the lines I skip often. You’re a very convincing actor.”

“I did almost shed a tear, if that means anything.”

“I’m assuming you’re a method actor?”

I nodded, not that he could see. “I like the immersion.”

“I guessed. I could kind of hear you pacing around down there.”

I guess I’m a little loud when I walk. 

“So,” He continued. “Who are you?” 

I paused before speaking, mouth open. How do I introduce myself? All angels know each other, if he was one then he would know my by voice. But he doesn’t recognize me and I don’t recognize him. Maybe just go with my name? Why was I overthinking this? Why was my face so damn hot? 

“Roman. My name is Roman. What is yours, my dear Holmes?” Nice. Smooth. 

“Logan. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Roman.”

“I know it is,” I turned my head to look up at him, making sure my body was concealed. After all, I must be wary lest it’s similar to the last human I encountered. He was lanky, from what I could tell. Dark brown hair, blue-framed glasses. And long, beautiful dark wings. They reflected the moonlight, iridescent. “Beautiful.” I muttered aloud, enamored by the regality of him. My golden wings, tipped with red at the end paled in comparison. I’d always thought mine were the most amazing- I was correct until now. There was no way I’d admit to that, especially not in front of this stranger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for vague homophobia and homophobic violence! Stay safe fellas!

He began to walk down the stairs from the catwalk above, forcing me out of my own mind. On instinct, I sidestepped to avoid him catching my wings. He was an angel too, though; surely he wouldn’t be surprised? 

“Would you give me the honor of seeing your face?” Logan asked, finally reaching the bottom. If I hesitating, he might get suspicious of me. But what if he’s dishonored? Black wings are seldom seen among healthy, obedient angels. But- the size of those wings; I’ve never seen them before. Far bigger than mine. Easily around six feet. Larger wingspan always means that they’re high up in stature, as they’ve lived long enough to merit it. But I’ve never once seen him around. What if he was the person I was sent to kill? This eccentric, kind man? What has he done? 

I felt a hand on my shoulder. All I could see was a blue button up. Heavens above, he was tall. I gave myself some room so I could look up at him. Dark, near-black hair brushed neatly back framed his face. In almost full contrast, he was pale-skinned. Everything about him seemed to stand out. The bags under his dark-blue eyes and how both came out on his skin, the little scars he had on his face from adolescent acne, the flyaway strands that fell over his face and cast shadows over those endless blue eyes. 

Fuck. 

“I. . .didn’t know you were an angel as well.” His voice was much softer when he was close. Was he bending his knees for me? I’m not that much smaller than him, the bastard. “If I did, perhaps I would’ve acted with a bit more restraint.” 

“And why’s that?” I asked, tilting my head. Please don’t confirm my suspicions. You’re far too pretty a boy to be the one I’m hunting. He took a moment, choosing his words. 

“Affiliation with religion and God. I treat anyone like me with respect; I know they all have good intentions. Speaking of good intentions, you look like you need a place to sleep.” 

I looked down at myself, initially hurt. He was right; I’d been homeless for weeks searching for the cast angel and hadn’t gotten much sleep or rested. Even my nice, red suit looked a little dirty. I expect my face wasn’t better, though now that clouds had moved over the moon I’d assume he couldn’t see much at all. He was right, though. I looked like some sort of serf that tripped in its oxen’s shit and landed in it. Then was trampled by that same oxen because they were through being used as manual workers and broke every bone in my fragile body. 

“I really don’t look that bad, but I won’t turn down an offer if you really do insist.”

“If you have somewhere else you’d rather-“

“IF YOU INSIST!” I interject. I very much didn’t have a place to go. No money, nor any qualifications for a job besides spreading joy. I didn’t very much feel like being a jester for small, scary little children. 

“Shall we, then?” Logan took my hand up into his own. Though his palms were far from soft, they had a calming quality to them. I’d assume he must’ve had some angelic qualities, being such a strange one himself. 

Angels, depending on how they were raised, always have a certain aura. Mine was confidence and creativity, for obvious reasons. Patton, one of the more parental of angels, was empathetic. He acted as our fledgling leader even though he was barely older than us. He even put up with Virgil, who was always by himself and wasn’t able to function with the rest of us. He went ‘missing’ quite a few years ago. I didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t cut out to be one of us. 

When you’re an angel, you don’t think much of the ones that don’t make it. It’s strange to think we could be just as cruel as humans. 

“Of course, sir. I’m gonna take a very long nap when we get to your place.” He began to walk and I stayed close. Despite my ability to fly away at any given moment, humans are unable to see our wings. Which means they mustn’t be able to see a presumably human taking off. And Logan is quite tall. If another rude man tries to break my nose again, I’m sure he can do something. 

As we left the garden, tired workers were finally able to close up. Why they didn’t just force us out, I have no clue. The clouds painted over the sky, obscuring some of the stars but not all from view. The street-lamps gave us all the light we needed as Logan lead me down the sidewalks. Water splashed under my boots, the smell of past rain and perfume shoppes selling floral aromas drifted through the air. 

Others walked along the night streets too. Couples; families. College age students who looked to be near as tired as me. They spoke quietly, respectful of the tranquility of the surrounding area. A woman sang somewhere aways from the area we were, through an open window carried along the wind to us. 

I closed my eyes, letting my fellow angel take care of my well being. The world began to sway. The singing, the calming aura, all of it was enough to knock me out for weeks. Perhaps he could carry me the rest of the way. I’d appreciate that. 

“Leave her alone!” Was that Logan’s voice? My arm felt like it was going to pop out of its socket. What was he doing? I opened my eyes, the lamps leaving bright areas in my sight I couldn’t see through. Through the lingering blind spots, I could just make out Logan’s body in front of me. Then the girl he must’ve been talking about, holding another girl close. She was shaking like a leaf, sobbing into the smaller girl’s shoulder. And a much older man. 

“Are you one of them too?” He sneered. His form moved to look at me and Logan. My eyes adjusted as soon as he saw our fingers intertwined. “You are.” With one hand, he took the small girl by her hair. Logan let go of me, pushing me away. He twisted the bastard’s arm, forcing him to give up the girl. She ran back to her lover, helping her up and away from whatever this was. 

Now it was just us and him. I staggered towards the man, half-dazed. Logan was tall but his ability to fight back was close to nothing at all. He just held onto the guy’s arms, trying to kick him. Somehow, the guy had gotten his arm free and was reaching around behind of his back, pulling something from his pants. I ran towards Logan, pushing him away and grabbing for the object. 

Logan hit the ground as a hand made it’s way around my throat. It was so hard to breathe. Somehow, I leveraged myself forward and sunk my teeth into his forearm. Oxygen returned to my brain. He put the cold metal gun under my neck, doing things with it I didn’t understand. I moved back. My foot fell under me, slipping on the water. My hand hit against his, knocking the gun just as it fired. My wings extended out just as I hit the ground and the bullet left the chamber. Red and blue lights lit up my sight. 

Then I saw nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I love u


End file.
